Living with a stranger
by ShortieCake105
Summary: Slightly lonesome, Bella is tossed across the country to live with the dad she has never met, and Forks turns out to be slightly better than she expected. Some OCC, Canon, Rebella
1. Chapter 1

**(A/N- HI :D So basically this is my newest story, started on 18/01/2011. I love starting new stories when Ideas pop into my head, so here is another one. it's quite similar to the original story, however this bella had more of a rebel side, and actually has a backbone, which I disagreed with in the original one. I hope you like it, please comment later.)**

**A couple things before reading;**

**Im English, so sometimes, i'll make mistakes by using English language instead of American, for that I am sorry, and I try to proof read a couple of times to make sure everything is in order, but I won't always( because al lyou writers will know; it's very dull) but hopefully you'll forgive me for errors.**

**Im not a pro at drifting, hell, I don't even have my drivers license yet, however it is something I am interested in, as is motocross, so the information im getting is off the internet and won't always be right. So basically I am just learning about these things, so... don't try anything out, because I hardly know what im doing.**

**While updates will be fast for now, once Septermber starts, I'll be at college 4 days a week at least, so I won't be undating as much.**

_Prologue_

The air was filled with smoke from three cars lined up in a row on one of the large back streets in Phoenix. The roar of all three cars combined was enough to make the crowd of nearly one hundred people sound silent and the head lights made it hard not to notice the scantily clad young woman that stood in front of the three cars, which a brightly colour flag in one hand and a joint in the other. She was new here; probably one of the other drivers' whores, and that meant she had to at least _look_ useful.

The roars of the two other cars got louder as the drivers pressed on the accelerator and thicker, gray smoke filled the air. I rolled my eyes but did the same, annoyed at the slow but necessary preliminary actions you had to perform before the race could actually start. The woman stood in front of us, threw her unfinished joint to the side of the road, and put the flag in the air.

I sat up straight in my seat in anticipation. She looked at the furthest car on the right, and the driver must have nodded because she turned to the driver in the middle, waiting for the nod, before turning to me, on the far left.

I nodded, the basic action stating you were ready for the race and knew the terms on losing and winning. The flag was raised higher, and the crowd seemed to still. I stilled also, focused on the accelerator and the direction I was going to take.

The route was quite simple. We were to turn left on Monroe street, and straight down first street, before and then right past the Police museum, which was heavily guarded, and turn left to go on 3rd street and the finish line was just before reaching the freeway. It was short, defiantly one of the shorter races I had ever done, but since we had to pass the Police museum, we had to be quick, drive fast and not get caught. I knew which way I was going to go already. I knew the backstreets of Phoenix like the back of my palm.

The flag was down and we were off, I shifted in second gear, the easiest to drift in, and pushed on the clutch. I flicked my eyes down to check at the speed gauge, reading 198 mph, as I pressed on the gas pedal and pushed the throttle down, to enable me to make the tight turn on Monroe street. Flicking the steering wheel to the left, I drifted fast around the corner, the speed gauge now reading 210, and straightened the car and pressed the accelerator down hard, driving at 220 down First Street.

One of the drivers, the first one, was slightly behind me, although it may seem like he was losing, I was sure he had tricks up his sleeve for when I wasn't ready. The other driver was nowhere to be seen. I drifted round slowly onto 3rd street, trying to make as little noise as possible while going past the Police museum.

However, it is extremely hard to be quiet in a drift car because the engine is so powerful. Not long after I drifted onto third, Cop sirens were heard.

I changed my direction, driving down Pima street, leaving the other driver on the right route, and me taking a longer one. I pushed the car to its full 240, and turned again on 5th avenue. If I was lucky I could still win.

I smiled when I saw the freeway with no obstacles, police or other drivers, and a huge crowd at the finish line. The smile turned into a successful grin until a police car, with no sirens on, turned on the street right ahead of me from Apache street. I was still going at 240, and pressed the brake pedal in panic when I saw the car stop right in my path. This through me into the windshield and I was passed out before the cops even got out of their car.

The last thing I remember was hearing the screams and yells of the dissolving crowd as cops tried to, sometimes failing, to catch them.


	2. Chapter 2

**(A/N- Second chapter up. Review :P)**

I woke up to a fuzzy, but familiar room and a killer headache. My skull burned and felt bruised at the same time. I blinked and attempted to sit up, blinking several more times before a focused image came into my view.

I was in my bedroom, in my house, in Phoenix.

_Shiiit. MotherFucker. Dammit. _

No one was in the room, but I could hear conversation going on downstairs. I sat up straight and tried to remember what happened after I performed one of the worst drift stops in history. Ugh. I couldn't remember a thing.

There was an Advil and a glass of water on the bedside table and I winced in pain, as my head and neck protested as I moved to the side to get it. I swallowed it and put the glass back on the table, feeling exhausted by just that, but I sat up further and swung my legs out of the bed and stood up slowly.

Thankfully, my legs didn't give out under me, and I shuffled to the door, holding onto things to stop myself falling from the nausea and tiredness.

I got to the bathroom without an interrogation from Renee' or Phil, not that I expected much of one from them, because they were hardly educated enough in parenting to know what the hell to do with me. This was not the first time I had been brought home early in the morning by police, unconscious or conscious, and of all the times, my mother only bothered to ground me the first time. Even then, she hadn't enforced it when I went out and didn't obey her.

And Phil was more like a big brother, and he wasn't even my real dad. He was my stepdad, married to my mom a couple of years ago, was a minor league baseball player and had to travel a lot. My mom always went with him, leaving me and the house a couple hundred dollars. Phil was there when I got busted with a gun in my belt in school. He even showed me how to roll joints. Phil was pretty much awesome, except he didn't know how to treat me as a daughter, so he just didn't.

My father, my real father, was nonexistent. My mom apparently ran from him with me from a shitty little town called Forks when I about a year old. He clearly didn't care enough to attempt to get me back, or call or even goddamn send a card on my fucking birthday!

I turned on the bath tap and turned to look in the mirror, angry with myself for thinking about my stupid dad. There was a bruise above my left eye, which could be covered by my choppy bangs and a cut over my right eyebrow, probably caused by smashing my head into the windscreen.

"Shit" I groaned. The cut wasn't much, but it was definitely noticeable on my pale ivory skin.

Other than that, I looked pretty much like normal. My lip and eyebrow piercing were both still in place, and hadn't been ripped out by the crash. My black dyed hair was puffed in every direction, the blue and pink highlights a huge contrast to the darkness of my hair. I even checked for my tongue ring, making sure it was in place, although I'm sure I would know if it had been ripped out, it would hurt like a bitch.

I turned the tap off once the bath was full and eased myself into the hot water, feeling slightly better already. I rested my head on the edge of the bath and slowly, gently rinsed myself off, checking for any other bruises. I found nothing, I was mostly just sore.

After lying in the same position for about 25 minutes, I was starting to feel a little bit prune-ish, so I got out and wrapped myself in a towel, avoiding the mirror this time. I opened the door and peeked out, seeing no one, I did the risky run from the bathroom to the bedroom and sighed in relief once the door was closed, only to turn around and stare into the disappointed eyes of my mom.

I sighed, wishing this could be over and done with. Although she never punished me, I did always feel guilty when I looked at her afterwards because of the disappointed looks she gave me. She was stood looking at all the pictures on the walls. My bedroom walls were almost overflowing with pictures of me, my friends and my cars or posters of my favourite bands and concert tickets. She took time to study individual photos; ones she thought were worth her looking at. There was one of her and Phil and myself, at the local beach in Phoenix, the sun setting behind us, one of me and my father, the only one of the two of us. There was one of me and two of my friends Rachel and Rebecca, who originally lived in Forks, but had moved on with their lives.

She was silent while she looked at them, touching a photo once in a while, and I stood awkwardly behind her, trying to understand her gestures. Finally she spoke, but stayed looking at the pictures in front of her.

"Bella, Phil and I have been talking," She started out, seeming unsure of what she was about to say, and paused to collect her words before carrying on, "We've both decided you are going to go and live in Forks with your Dad."


	3. Chapter 3

I didn't give her much of a chance to explain. I was angry, beyond angry. I had kicked her out of my room, almost having to throw her out as she protested and pleaded in an almost annoying way. She was kicking me out of her house, plain and simple.

When she figured out I wasn't listening to her, all she did was throw a plane packet on the bed and told me my plane was at 8:30 tomorrow morning. I ignored her and began to pull a suitcase from my bed.

Packing was tedious, but it at least kept my mind of things I'd rather not think about, but they still crept into my mind occasionally, filling my mind with more anger and worries.

I was moving in with a man who didn't give a stuff about me, moving to the very same town my mom had run away from 16 years earlier. I probably wouldn't fit into this dull, small town. A young rebellious girl was supposed to live in the big city, it was unnatural to ship me off in the middle of the semester when all my friends where here.

_Friends? _

_What Friends Bella, You're the most unsociable bitch I've ever been the subconscious of._

Okay, so maybe not friends as such, more mechanics and acquaintances and enemies.

Oh my god... did they even have a race track? What about my car?

I thought and worried about this until Phil called up for dinner. I was still annoyed at them both, but it was hard to stay mad at Phil, because he is just this likable guy. I asked him about my car when my mom was out of the room, and he told me it had been confiscated and impounded, and possibly crushed, but that he had a court date set for him and my mom to go about getting it back.

I thanked him, and with a small smile, went off to bed, crashing instantly after setting my alarm clock for 6:00.

The plane ride wasn't bad since I had my iPod, and music filled my ears for most of the 3 and a half hour journey.

I had worn the only warm think I owned, black skinny jeans a black sweater and cropped leather jacket, and I was still chilly, as we descended onto the runway, the air got colder.

The pilot spoke before letting us off, stating that it was around 21 degrees and that coats and sweaters would be needed. **(Ok, In the UK, 21 degrees in rather warm :S Why is it considered cold in Forks?)**

The airport was packed in Port Angeles, the nearest airport to Forks, with people huddled in thick coats and sweaters, and parka's and I could see from the baggage claim that it was pouring down outside, typical weather for this part of America. Waiting for my luggage took forever, but finally I found my two suitcases and my backpack and looked around.

I followed people through the airport, seeing they were walking, albeit slowly, to the exit where family members and friends would probably be waiting for them.

Haha. Little Dilemma, I had no idea what my _daddy _looked like.

There were people everywhere; the airport was packed for it being so small, and people where greeting family members with hugs and pleasant words, and people holding signs high in the air to grab people's attention.

I looked at each of the signs, till I found one with "_Miss Isabella Swan" _written in messy handwriting, and looked at the man holding the sign.

He was tall with dark scruffy hair and moustache, with deep brown eyes and wearing a cop uniform. He wore an anxious expression on his face as he searched the crowds coming from the departures doors, looking for me. I picked up the suitcases I had dropped when I was looking, and dragged them through the throng of people, stopping in front of the man with my name card.

He looked astonished, as though I had crawled out from the ground claiming I was coming from China. He struggled with his words, opening and closing his mouth before getting something unoriginal, albeit successful.

"Isabella?" He said as his eyes trailed around my face, recognition colouring his features. His eyes stopped on the cut above my eyebrow, which I had tried to conceal with makeup. Apparently it had come off since this morning. He also looked at my piercings with disdain, and I felt the urge to stick my tongue out at him and show him my tongue ring, but I didn't.

"Bella," I corrected, "I like to be called Bella." I told him as he took one of the suitcases from my hand and grabbed the backpack of my back before I could protest.

"Oh," He coughed slightly, "Bella then, how was your flight?"

Oh god, the dreaded small talk. I rolled my eyes underneath my bangs.

"Fine." I simply said, because it was true.

We were at the car now, a Cop car, an ugly thing which looked like it had been around since the 60's. It was embarrassing to look at and even more embarrassing to ride in, and I cringed as I got in the front seat.

The ride to Forks from the airport took about 40 minutes. Charlie turned the poor radio on 15 minutes into the journey as neither of us had anything to say. I was surprised this machine had a radio actually.

Several times Charlie had opened his mouth to say something, I could see him debating to talk out of the corner of my eye, but he kept quiet and so did I, opting to put my earphones in my ears and look out of the window.

We passed a lot of green forest and trees and eventually, a sign welcoming us to Forks.

There wasn't much in the town of Forks, just as Mom had once told me. A diner stood on the corner of the main town, and outdoor camping store, and several other little town stores. I wondered where the nearest car dealership was, I desperately needed a car till mine could be shipped over. I dreaded thinking about being taken to school in this thing.

Charlie stopped the car outside a quaint little detached house, with forests looming over the back of it and lots of overgrown plants in the front yard. The dirty white paint on the porch was peeling, and in need of redecoration. I grabbed one of my suitcases out of the back of the car and Charlie grabbed the others and we trailed inside the house.

It was moderately clean, considering the only person who lived there was my dad, and he showed me round the small house; the living room with the huge TV and well used sofa, the kitchen painted bright yellow and an overflowing jar of cash on top of the fridge labelled "Grocery money" and lots of take-away wrappers near the back door. He showed me upstairs to the only bathroom, which didn't have a bath, only a shower, and walking past his door to my room at the end of the landing.

The room was painted purple, with purple bed sheets and lamps on the bedside table. There was an old looking computer monitor on a desk near the window and a set or drawers and a closet.

Charlie cleared his throat behind me. "I'll, uh, leave you to it. I'll order pizza for dinner." With that he walked out and I set my suitcases on the bed, and looked around the room; it seriously needed redecorating.

A good thing about Charlie,

He didn't hover.


	4. Chapter 4

**(A/N- Number 4 :D review!)**

Charlie had some redecorating stuff in the garage, and I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening unpacking and moving stuff around and painting the room, making it mine. Charlie had said I could do anything to it as long as I didn't smash any walls down. I painted the room electric blue, after a lot of mixing I had eventually gotten the right colour.

The huge old computer had been replaced by my sleek laptop I had brought with me, and the closet had been pushed into a better position and the bed pushed against the wall to create more space. It had taken a lot of work and I had only stopped when Charlie called to tell me the pizza was here.

We sat eating the pizza, pepperoni for me and some meat feast for him, in front of the large TV until Charlie switched it off.

"I, uh, enrolled you at school earlier today," he started as he put his piece of pizza down, "You'll be starting the day after tomorrow and I have taken tomorrow morning off so we can go down to Port Angeles to get you a car I don't-" I cut him off before he could say anymore.

"Charlie, you don't have to drive me, I can get the bus, its fine, and I can get some groceries because you're all out of... everything." He looked sheepish at the last bit and walked over to the jar on top of the fridge and handing it too me.

"Well here's the money for the groceries, but I can't cook... so buy something simple...maybe micro waved lasagne or something?" He asked.

I rolled my eyes and grabbed the jar, getting up from the table and pushing the chair in.

"I can cook, its fine," I told him as I walked up the stairs.

"Night" I called before slamming the bathroom door and getting ready for bed.

I woke up around 8:00 the next morning, and Charlie had left for work early, around 6:00, leaving a note, claiming an emergency at work. He also left his credit card stating I could use it to buy my car, and I scoffed at that idea. I had more money than I knew what to do in my bank account, due to the amount of races I had won in Phoenix.

I had a quick shower and looked through my limited clothing and sighed as I grabbed some jeans and a band tee. I needed clothes, and decided to do some online shopping later using Charlie's credit card. I detested walking through malls, and online shopping wasn't as bad.

I pulled a brush through my hair and put it back in a band; making sure my bruise was covered, and put make up over my cut before making the decision to call a cab instead of waiting for a bus. I grabbed my bag and rushed out of the house.

The cab ride took about the same amount of time as yesterday, and I got a better look of Port Angeles as I thanked the cab driver and got out of the car.

There were quite a few stores, and after asking someone where the nearest car dealer ship was, and found one walled Wilder Auto, not far into town. I knew there weren't going to be drift cars, but there were lots of other cars, and a specific one caught my eye.

It was a bright blue Jeep Wrangler, perfect for Forks terrain, at $35,000. I bought it there and then, much to the delight of a happy salesman. He looked astonished at the gold credit card I passed to him, but didn't ask questions, probably afraid I had stolen money and he wouldn't get his sale bonus. I thanked him after signing a million papers, and climbed into the new jeep. The smell of new car greeted me as I closed the door, looking more closely at the interior of the car.

I loved it. I put the key into the ignition and listened to the pleasant rumble of the engine. While it was nowhere near as loud as my Nissan Drift car, it was loud.

Roaring out of the parking lot; I followed the arrows on the concrete and listened to the sat-nav tell me the directions to the nearest thrift store.

I got enough Ingredients for steak and potatoes, Charlie had told me he liked it, and that there was nothing but fish in the freezer; I would have to find out how to put fish in different dishes.

I put the groceries on the front seat and got in round the other seat, smiling at the sound of the large jeep.

It took about thirty minutes to get home, making my trip to Port Angeles and back only taking me until 2:00. I had hours to kill before I had to start dinner; I expected Charlie home at 6pm.

Turning on the TV to some cooking channel, I sat with my laptop on my knee and surfed through online clothing stores, eventually finding clothes I knew I would wear; Skinny jeans, band tee's, the occasional skirt and leather jackets and bike boots. Somehow, this led me to an online motorbike store, showing very hot bikes.

Whilst I have never owned a motorbike before, there was bike parks which I had been too, always interested in the idea of motocross or similar sports. I clicked on one of the websites, and saw a bike called Ducati 1200 S sport. I _wanted it. _Badly.

I looked at the price and my eyes bulged. It was a hefty price tag, ranging to nearly $60,000 with all components. I contacted the dealer and worked out the price, forgetting completely about buying clothes. I managed to get the price down to $55,000, and get him to drop it off at the local garage so Charlie wouldn't see it. It would be delivered in three weeks maximum.

I was looked at the small clock on the corner of the laptop screen, and it showed 4:49, so I decided to start making dinner, cooking it slowly for the best taste. I had learned how to cook myself dinner when I was about 11, when Renee just stopped attempting to make meals, and shoved a pizza at me and expected me to cook it myself, and I kind of just started to enjoy fending for myself in the kitchen. It was _my _area and Renee never bothered me in there.

Charlie came home just past 6:00, hanging his gun belt up noisily and closing the front door.

"Bella? That you?" _Yeah, who else are you expecting to be cooking your dinner in your kitchen?_

"Yeah Charlie, it's me!" I yelled back, although it wasn't necessary in the quiet house. I could hear him plod through the house, probably trailing mud and dirt through the house with him, and sit in the chair, _his_ chair, at the table.

"Good day?" I asked him, turning round, and seemed happy that one of was making conversation, he was pretty incapable of doing it.

"Yeah, good, not busy though, just paperwork," He pulled a face and that and sniffed the air lightly, "Smells good, Bells." He said as he took his shoes off.

I turned back around and poked one of the potatoes with a fork, to see if it was ready, and then got the steak out of the oven.

Whilst eating dinner, Charlie told me about Forks high school, where it was, and that he had told the teachers I would be there early to pick up my papers and shit. In turn I told him about the Jeep and some clothes I had got and he nodded as we ate.

It was the most we had spoken in 17 years.


	5. Chapter 5

**(A/N- Tell me what you think? Answer to question by Berdb, She is 17, old enough to buy one I think, and if you are wondering about the payment (your question wasn't quite clear), then he doesn't know she has payed for it herself, until he checks his credit card. Other than that, its quite easy to buy a car.)**

I woke up the next morning early, getting ready slowly, sluggish from the night's bad sleep. The rain had pounded on the roof and window pretty much all night, and I had no idea how Charlie managed to snore heavily throughout it.

I looked through my closet, debating what to wear after looking out into the miserable weather; still pouring , and decided on slashed skinny jeans decorated with safety pins and mini chains, and a fitted avenged sevenfold tee, and a pair of black 4 inch ankle boots with straps. I put on my leather jacket, remembering to reattach the hood and put my makeup on.

I back combed my hair, spraying it with a tonne of hairspray and fluffing it up, before grabbing my backpack and throwing my iPod and book in. I looked around my room before leaving it, satisfied that I had everything, and tiptoed down the stairs, hoping not to wake Charlie this early in the morning.

I poured some cereal, only to find a note on the kitchen table.

_Bella,_

_Had an early shift at the station today, forgot to mention it last night, hope you have a good first day, money for lunch on the table, ring if you need me,_

_Charlie._

I scrunched up the note and threw it in the bin, hitting it perfectly from this angle, instantly putting me in a good mood. Smiling, I ate my cereal standing up, looking around the brightly painted yellow kitchen.

I looked at the clock that now stated it was 7:15. According to Charlie, school started at 8:00 and I had to be there early. I sighed and grabbed the keys out of my bag, pulling the front door closed behind me after throwing my bowl in the sink.

The Jeep sounded even louder this morning, even in the loud pattering of the consistent rain; it was bound to wake up the entire street of unsuspecting people.

I backed out of the car space and drove down the street, following the directions Charlie had given me, I had a slowly disappearing list in my head, and I repeated them over and over to keep them in my mind.

Not 15 minutes later, and no mistakes in the directions, I ended up in a small, almost empty parking lot, and parked in one of the spaces near a building labelled_ Main office._

I got out of the car, pulling my hood up and shuffle ran to the main office, to avoid getting wet, sighing in relief when I opened the door to a warm, yet small waiting room.

There were three plush chairs stood near the farthest wall from the door, and a pot of green plants on either side of the chairs, as if there weren't enough green stuff outside. There was a modern looking desk with a bored woman sat inside; she was tapping mindlessly on a keyboard, occasionally looking up outside the window.

She noticed me looking around and sat up, showing me her dark business like suit, which made her look professional.

I walked over to the desk, expecting her to ask who I was, but it seemed she already knew who I was.

"Isabella Swan?" She asked, her eyes shining with delight and excitement. She smiled at me when I nodded and started to look through stacks of papers.

"Yeah" I replied, looking at her in boredom. Her smiled faltered a bit, but not enough for me as she dragged out the papers she wanted to show me.

Her droning, annoying voice directed me through the three different sheets; a map, my schedule and locker number. She droned on for about 5 minutes, highlighting the best ways to get to get to my different classes. I sighed, took the papers from her hand and dragged myself to the door, not looking behind me to thank her, because to be honest, the woman annoyed me already.

I opened the glass door, letting it shut behind me and looked at the filling parking lot. It was easy to see most of the students drove; there were many cars, most looking old, save a few nice looking ones, and my Jeep stood out tremendously with its height and bright colour. I could see, from where I was that students were eyeing it up as they walked past. I smirked and walked to my first class; Trigonometry.

My morning classes went quiet fast, it was monotonous and repetitive most of the time, teachers making me introduce myself, me saying no and them introducing me themselves, before sending me to my seat and beginning the lesson; it was all bull to me. I had never understood trig before, so I didn't listen and get involved, and I didn't intend t start now. My Varner, the trig teacher was a dick anyway.

There was a chatty girl, whose name I didn't remember, was in all of my name, and talked nonstop about things nobody cared about; it was clear people put up with her chatting because no one seemed about to stop the incessant noise coming from her wide open trap. I pretty much ignored her as she offered me a place to sit at her table; as if I would, and walked to a table over by the window, placed far anyway from all the other tables, and away from the disgusting smelling cafeteria food.

I pulled out my iPod and book and scrolled through the playlists, finding the perfect one and found the right page in Pride and Prejudice. I was really into it, reading 4 chapters.

"_When the ladies removed after dinner, Elizabeth ran up to her sister, and, seeing her well guarded from cold, attended her into the drawing-room; where she was welcomed by her two friends with many professions of pleasure; and Elizabeth had never seen them so agreeable as they were during the hour which passed before the gentlemen appeared. Their powers of conversation were considerable. They could describe an entertainment with accuracy, relate an anecdote with humour, and laugh at their acquaintance with spirit." _**(A/N Chapter 11 beginning from Pride and Prejudice)**

I hadn't gotten much farther than that when a cough sounded through the earphone and music and into my ear. It was hard to ignore, since I was sure it was directed at me with such annoyance. I pulled my earphone out of my ear and looked up at the pale woman standing next to me; she was alone, but held a stance of authority, as if she were above the rest of the cafeteria. The look of superiority she had on her face pissed me off and I raised an eyebrow at her. She had blonde hair flowing down her back, and her perfect figure left little to be admired about her. The expression on her face, however, did not.

"You're sitting at me and my families table," Was all she said, as if she expected me to get up from my seat and apologise. Her voice was clear, and bell like, but it did not suit the words she spit out at me.

"So?" I replied to her, hoping she would go away. I pulled the other earphone out of my ear and sat up straight, "If you expect me to move, you're going to be waiting a while, haven't you ever heard of sharing?" I smirked at the last word and her expression darkened, as did her eyes; from a lovely bright colour, to a darker brown colour, almost a shade of black.

"Rosalie!" A voice thundered from behind her, shocking me and her. Her eyes lightened noticeably and she turned her head slightly in acknowledgment to her name being called. Behind her stood a God, an angel; he was beautiful.

With a chiselled jaw, long legs and coppery colour hair, he was absolutely gorgeous, capturing not only my attention, but most of the female population in the cafeteria; I felt insanely jealous that they were so attracted to him.

He seemed to have caught her attention, and although they did not speak a word to each other, with a last glare at me, she turned swiftly around and sauntered out of the cafeteria, unfortunately not tripping and falling on her face in the process.

The boy took a step forward towards the table I was sitting at and I watched him as he hesitated, his golden eyes locked on my face and a smile playing on his perfectly proportioned lips, took the same step back, and with a small nod and slight wink at me, he turned and followed the blonde out of the cafeteria.

I was left stunned in my seat, with my earphones still playing loud music until the bell rang nearly five minutes later.


End file.
